


A New Name

by SummerRunaway



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Holmes Brothers, Kidlock, Sad Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 20:49:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1525175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerRunaway/pseuds/SummerRunaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the recent passing of the Holmes' dog, Redbeard, Mycroft helps a distraught Sherlock to come to terms with his pet's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Name

Mycroft woke to the sound of muffled crying in the next room, and it was more simple curiosity than concern that brought him to the conclusion to discover the problem. He slipped out of bed, drew his sleeping gown around him, and shuffled along the corridor to the source of the noise – his little brother’s bedroom.

“William,” he coaxed a voice from his brother. “Are you okay?”

The mound under the covers of the bed froze for a moment, sniffling quietly. Mycroft tried again.

“Billy?” he murmured, taking another small step toward his little brother.

William threw back the covers, revealing his tear-streaked cheeks to his older brother. Mycroft gingerly patted William’s shoulder, taking a seat on the end of the bed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

William pointed a shaky hand at his desk. Mycroft knew exactly what was there, but he still leaned over to pick up the frame that held his little brother’s favourite photograph – the one of him at three years old, cuddling the ball of fur that was two-month-old Redbeard.

“I miss him.” William choked out, using his bed sheets to wipe his eyes. “We were going to be swashbuckling pirates together when I got a little older. Why did he have to die, Mycroft?”

“He was sick,” Mycroft said, like every other time William has asked that question. “He was in a lot of pain. I bet he’s happy now.”

“Where? In heaven?” William protested. “But you’ve told me, heaven is just a fragment of the imagination that average people claim to believe.”

Mycroft stayed silent, staring down at his hands.

“He’s not happy,” William continued, working himself up into a state. “He doesn’t feel anything anymore. He’s nothing now. He’s just a body in the ground that’s going to be forgotten.”

William buried his face in his hands.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Billy.” Mycroft replied, stroking his brother’s mass of dark curls like how their mother did. “He’s not going to be forgotten. We’re going to remember him, forever and ever.”

“But then we die.” William replied defiantly. “And then there will be no-one that will remember him.”

“Not if we keep the story to ourselves.” Mycroft answered calmly. “We can tell our children, and our grandchildren, and anyone else that will listen. You could even write a book about him, you know. Then people we don’t even know will remember him like we do. Redbeard, forever and ever.”

William sniffed. “We could do that?”

“Of course.” Mycroft tested out a smile on his younger brother. “Now, go to sleep.”

Mycroft started making his way to the door when the timid voice of his brother drew him back again. “Mycroft?”

“Yes, Billy?” William was just beginning to get on his nerves.

“How do you not feel?”

This took Mycroft by surprise. His brother had always been so playful and carefree, while Mycroft had always been more reserved, not showing his emotions openly.

“I know you hide your feeling, Mycroft.” William continued. “I…I want to learn how. I want to learn how to not feel sad about Redbeard, or anything else, really. I want to never feel unhappy again.”

Mycroft knew that their parents would be horrified to hear this coming from their darling eight-year-old son, who had always been so open, but Mycroft felt so sorry for his little brother’s broken heart that he decided to comply to William’s wishes.

\--

The next morning, William ambled out of his room at the sound of his mother announcing breakfast. He yawned, mouth gaping wide, after being up so late the night before.

“How was your sleep, darling?” his mother asked, kissing his forehead.

“Okay,” William lied numbly, taking his seat next to his older brother, who was sitting up straight and eating his breakfast without more than a nod at William in greeting. William guessed that his other brother had already left for work. William straightened his posture and nodded back, and started to eat his breakfast in silence.

“Is everything alright?” his father asked, his head tilted in curiosity.

“Fine.” William replied simply.

“Billy, what’s wrong?” his mother queried, exchanging a worried glance at her husband. She stroked his hair, looking down worriedly at her younger son.

William looked up. “Mother, I was wondering…can you not call me Billy anymore?”

His father frowned. “What do you want us to call you, then? Will? William?”

William shook his head, and looked towards his brother for guidance. Mycroft nodded towards him, encouraging his little brother to take the step. William took a deep breath, hesitating.

“No, thank you,” he replied with great dignity and politeness. “I’d rather you call me…Sherlock.”


End file.
